


You Know My Name

by nirvhannahcornell (josiebelladonna)



Category: Dog Day Afternoon (1975)
Genre: 1970s, Canon Continuation, Heavy Angst, I saw a shit post on tumblr, M/M, New York City, On the Run, Post-Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:02:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22079647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/josiebelladonna/pseuds/nirvhannahcornell
Summary: After the failed heist, Sonny had broken out of prison to find his partner in crime Stevie again for a bone to pick. He also wants his money back, stat.
Kudos: 60





	You Know My Name

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to the abysmal lack of Pacino fics here on the archive. Given he’s one of my favorite actors, it makes sense that I do the honors.   
> Named for the Chris Cornell song.  
> Enjoy!   
> HOO AH! HOO AH!

The sun was about to rise by the time Sonny found the keys to his old Camaro parked behind the film shop. Those faded neon lights in the back window gave him just enough light to fondle around the front wheel well until he caught the edge of the key ring. Laying down there in the darkness also proved helpful in avoiding the wandering eyes of any early rising policemen who might have stride on past on the sidewalk in front of him.

All that welfare money diverted to Angie and the kids had bestowed quite the incentive, aside from the fact he was able to convince her on each of her conjugal visits of his intentions. He never entirely gave away his plan to escape from prison, but rather dropped hints and keywords, and eventually Angie caught on, equating two and two together and suggesting that he might break out of jail at some point in the future. She never found out just when he planned to dig himself out of his own hole so she always came equipped with his keys in her purse. It was by sheer suggesting on her behalf that she was able to put his old dark olive green car behind the one place she knew he would find it, or rather the one place he knew she would park it at: they used to be married after all.

The sun’s first rays streaked across the indigo sky, giving it a rich coat of orange and yellow paint. Sonny figured it was do or die time: get in the car now and risk waking the whole neighborhood with that heavy cacophonous diesel engine , or wait until the sun comes up all the way and improvise around town looking for Stevie with the risk of being found by a cop. Dusting himself off, he ducked into the front seat and stuck the key into the ignition. The car roared to life, to the point of it coaxing a disgruntled wince out of him, but he wasted no time in pushing it out of park and heading out to the side street before him.

Stopping at the crosswalk gave him the chance to check in the glove box, the center console, the visor... there they were! He unfolded them and put them on the bridge of his Roman nose. It would have to do for now before he could find a better way of concealing his otherwise still handsome face.

Even well after one of Angie’s visits, Sonny still remained in disbelief that Leon, now referring to himself as Elizabeth and a woman, had run off with some other schmuck while he was locked up. He thought for sure she was the one for him, even after Sal got shot in the head and the cops lugged him away. The whole point of that heist was for her to have the operation, and since everything went down the tubes and that day was moot at this point, it only seemed good on her part to keep the marriage together. It seemed like the ultimate testament of true love, to go insofar as robbing a bank in order to cover an otherwise steep price tag.

But no. She had to grow impatient and restless. She voided their contract and run off with someone else. The good news was that now Sonny had declared himself a free man. Free of the chains and weights that had held him down for three years; free to roam the streets with his head of thick, shaggy black hair and unkempt sideburns, just so long as the fuzz didn’t recognize him from behind those mirrored sunglasses for the time being.

If memory remained true, he recalled where Stevie had whispered to him just prior to backing out of the robbery. Granted, a muttering the words over street noise proved to be a steep task for anyone just before they high-tailed it out of Brooklyn, but Sonny knew what he meant by it. Two years in jail proved to be plenty of time to dwell on it and figure out a plan. It especially proved useful given Sonny used his prison call for Leon.

New York City was the perfect place to blend in, but only the real hardcore robbery artists hid out in Brooklyn near that damn bank. He turned right after the next green light and drove onward, past the quiet Prospect Park and the vast stretch that was Greenwood Cemetery and to the bridge spanning the bay. To his right, the Brooklyn Bridge stood strong and high against the golden light of the rising sun; to his left, the Statue of Liberty towered over the dark waters, a bluish green monolith with the tip of her torch glowing with the first new rays; before him, the Twin Towers stood in almost misplaced fashion against the rising southern end of the City.

Before reaching the land, he rolled down his window. Now was the time to blend in: just a guy driving up the peninsula and through the heart of downtown New York City in his car. Nothing to see here.

Given it had been a while, and the sun was about to rise up over the East side, Sonny figured he had to hustle since the traffic would soon hit and the cops would surely be on the lookout.

He bypassed the Twin Towers to his right, but took the next exit on the left side of the freeway, right on the outskirts of Tribeca. It was close enough to Brooklyn to remain close to home, but far and remote enough to be out of sight, there at Rockefeller Park.

Indeed, once he pulled up to the curb, the sun’s first rays shone over the tops of the trees and the crown of Stevie’s head.

He lifted his mirrors at Sonny, who tugged on the parking lever and switched off the car.

“Had a feeling you’d find me,” Stevie remarked as part of his greeting.

“You think I’d forget, you crazy bastard?” Sonny climbed out of the car with his fists clenched.

“You gonna punch me?” Stevie lifted a hand in defense.

“No. Although when you ran off, I kinda wanted to punch your lights out. But I’m glad you weren’t there ‘cause it got ugly quick.”

He lowered his shades and peered behind Sonny. “Where’s Sal?”

“Sal’s dead.”

“What!”

“Sal’s dead. A cop lured us out and then shot him in the head right in front of me.”

Stevie gaped at him, and then pressed his hands to his hips and glanced behind him. They were the only ones in Rockefeller Park. He stood there in disbelief, looking out to the dark bay waters, which were beginning to lighten up with the morning sun.

“I’ve got to tell ya, Steve,” Sonny started again, running his fingers through his shaggy hair, “the whole thing fucked me up.”

“Yeah, but what’re we gonna do though?”

“We? The fuck, what’re you, deaf?”

“No, but what’re we gonna do without Sal, though?”

“I’ve wondered this since the second he got shot in the head, you idiot! I’ve had literal nightmares about it. I lost a friend and all you can say is what now? Jesus Christ, Steve, I should punch you right now!”

“No, don’t—!” Sonny took a hard swing at the side of Stevie’s head, knocking him sideways. He staggered back and clutched his head. Before he could regain his composure, Sonny took another swipe at his face, right between the eyes, twice. The second time snapped his sunglasses in half, and they fell off his nose. Sonny socked him again right in the stomach, which knocked him down to the grass.

He lay there flat on his back on the ground as Sonny loomed over him with his shades in one hand.

“Don’t ever run off again,” he growled at him, grasping onto the collar of his shirt. “Got it?”

Stevie sniffled, even though he wasn’t bleeding.

“I said, got it?”

“Got it,” he replied in a feeble voice.

“Okay. Now that I’ve got that off my chest—“ Sonny bowed forward and put his lips onto Stevie’s, thus stunning him even more.

“What was that for?”

“I was married to a former man, alright? And while I’m still on the topic of venting—“ He let go of Stevie’s shirt collar and climbed off of him, wiping his hands. “I just want my money back.”

“You saying we have to rob your ex-wife?” Stevie demanded, mortified.

“No, idiot.” Sonny shook his head at him, exasperated. “We know how to rob a bank now—well, I do anyways. I learned how to do it before, so we can do it again.”

“No. No. No way in hell, Sonny, I’m not going through with this again. I mean—“ He shifted his weight there on the ground still, and there was no denying the look of apprehension on his face. “—I’ll admit it, man, I was kinda scared of you—“

“Scared. Of me.”

“Yeah, going outta your way like that—I can’t do that. I’m mortified of you, man!”

“Steve, could you shut up for a second?”

“I was scared, man,” he rambled. “Scared outta my wits of it all—“

“Steve—“

“So scared!”

“WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LISTEN TO ME!” His voice echoed over the grass and all the way towards the water’s edge. Everything stood still, even with the thick beams of sunlight streaming around the apartment buildings in Tribeca and Chinatown right behind them. Sonny fumed at him, but Stevie kept his mouth shut for him.

“Okay,” he began in a lower but firm voice, “here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna go across the bay here into Jersey and rob a bank, and we’re gonna do it fast, too, since it’s still early.”

“Since it’s still early?”

“The cops aren’t out yet, but if we hustle, we’ll get to it and then boogie back here to the Big Apple.”

“‘Cause it’s—“ Stevie swallowed and brought a hand to the bridge of his nose. Sonny might have broken it. “—it’s easy to blend in here.”

“Right! And you and I know our way around here, too. It’s not like we’re pros at the whole thing but we can hide out ‘round here. And going over to Jersey could do the trick, too. I just want the money...” His voice trailed off.

Stevie stood to his feet right then with his hand still on the bridge of his nose.

“What if something happens, though?” he asked him in a nasally voice.

“Like what?”

“I dunno... we get separated again.”

“The Bronx. Way the hell up there. If not, we’ll go all the way out to the Hamptons. It’s sleepy enough out there, we can lay low for a bit. Either way, Steve—look at me.”

Sonny gripped onto Stevie’s shoulder to steady him and to stare hard into his face.

“Either way, you and everyone else who knows me outside of the law knows of my intention and that’s to help out, be it myself or a woman who used to be a man and doesn’t frankly give a shit about me anymore. If we’re caught, and I go back to jail, you’ll know that I tried to help your ass get out of there. If you go free, take it with you ‘cause that means I have nothing to lose at that point. It’s only ‘cause I care about you enough to punch you in the side of the head to get you to know that. You go free to the Bronx, the Hamptons, wherever, with the money, and you know my name.”


End file.
